


Just Enough the Same

by plumandfinch



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:50:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumandfinch/pseuds/plumandfinch
Summary: In an instant, the room falls silent.





	Just Enough the Same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evilythedwarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilythedwarf/gifts).



> Written for @evilythedwarf for the Steggy Secret Santa 2017.

In an instant, the room falls silent. **  
**

“Margaret, I will tell you for the last time, girls may not play the Wise Men. You and Helen will go and collect your -” this was punctuated with a disdainful snort, “- angel wings from Mrs. Taylor or you may go home and not return.”

Terrible Marjorie Johnson, cast inexplicably as the Head Angel, titters into her sleeve as Peggy’s hands clench and the heat rises into her cheeks.

“But Mrs. Davies, we’ve already found Helen a robe that fits her and I brought my own crown-”

And  _that_  was how Peggy found herself standing slightly sorrowfully between her mother and father, catching every so often Helen’s quiet sniffles from several pews away. She didn’t mind it, if she was being honest with herself. It was much better to be sneaked peppermints by Dad then to spend the night being bossed about by Marjorie Johnson. And out here, when everyone’s hymnals creaked open, she was surrounded by sound. Mum’s light but passable soprano, Dad’s plodding baritone, Mr. Pargetter in the row right behind them gallantly and enthusiastically barking out the bass line.

During the pageant itself Michael winks boldly at her from his place among the other shepherds (“Even I didn’t get to be a Wise Man, Peg.” he says later to further mollify her) and Marjorie trips over her own robe, blushing furiously. Peggy’s sure it isn’t Christian to sigh so loudly and happily but she wonders if perhaps the Good Lord wouldn’t mind so much if He remembered what Marjorie Johnson was really and truly like.

They get passed the small, white candles for the final hymn and the church goes dark but for the flickering points of flame. This is usually her favorite part of standing in the front as part of the angels, looking out into all that light. But hearing the voices around her is comforting in a way she cannot yet name. As the congregation wends its way through the verses, they get quieter and some voices drop away. She’s surprised to see a tear rolling down Dad’s face and to feel Mr Pargetter shaking the back of their pew. She had overheard Mum and Dad whisper once about Mr. Pargetter’s time during the War. “Ypres”, Dad had said, “he was there for the Christmas truce,” and she had dragged the almanac from the bookshelf to find out where that was. She hadn’t asked any questions after that.

–

“Are you sure, Ma? It’s really cold tonight and your cough…”

It’s something that they do not discuss. And it turns out tonight is no exception. Ma raises her eyebrow and winds her biggest scarf around her neck.

“Well, if it’s so cold then we best bundle up. And let’s get a move on. Father O’Leary won’t appreciate if we’re late. It’s Christmas Eve, young man, and on Christmas Eve, we go to church.”

The street is awash with lights, sounds, and running children even though the hour is late. The Schneiders in the next building are lighting five candles in their window as the Rogerses walk by. When they reach the church it is warm and full and they slide into seats in the pew with the Barnes clan.

“It’s James’ first Christmas Eve Mass as an acolyte,” Winifred whispers to Ma as they get settled.

“I’ll say some extra prayers.”

Bucky nudges him as he processes by, accompanied by a bawdy wink, which makes the candle in his processional candle holder wobble. Winifred hisses and he can feel Ma’s shoulder’s shake. She leans down to whisper in his ear. “You could be an acolyte next year.”

“Nah, I like being out here with you.”

There is a beat as the congregation swings into the first verse of the processional. Steve sings along quietly. Ma doesn’t sing anymore but she wraps her arm around his shoulders and taps the beat lightly against his sweater.

There is a gasp from further down the pew and he looks up just in time to watch Father Doyle, the more spry of their two priests, extinguish a small fire near the high altar and very near a bashful looking Bucky. He can really feel Ma laugh now and he laughs too. Even Mrs. Barnes starts to laugh, once the air of urgency has died down and that’s all it takes for the whole pew to giggle silently almost the entire service.

It’s after midnight when Bucky gets cuffed on the back of the head by his father as they scramble into coats, scarves, and hats and and after a flurry of hugs and handshakes, step out into the night.   

–

She thinks it is the most brusque tone she has ever heard Dugan use.

“I said shut it off.”

A private rushes to switch off the small transistor radio that had been quietly playing in the corner of the command tent.

Peggy catches his eye and raises a well-manicured eyebrow.

“Everything alright, Dugan?”

“Just fine, Carter, I’m fine. We’re out here in this freezing muck and the damn Germans keep shootin’ at us. And I sure as hell don’t need to be hearing that crooner, Crosby, while we’re out here in this wasteland. Also, it’s too damn loud, Private,” he all but growls.

“Yes, sir.”  

“Well, as long as everything’s fine.”

Dugan runs his hands over his face, wearily. “I didn’t sign up for this to have a good time. It’s just been a long war, Peg.”

“Why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee and we’ll continue this later.”

The tent now silent, Peggy rubs her numb hands together. It is indeed freezing and damp and Dugan is not the only one who is miserable. Their mission was supposed to be a quick one, before they were back to London to begin work on the next big offensive. She sighs, quite loudly in the quiet, and closes her eyes for a moment. Phillips had trusted her with this mission but absolutely not one piece of it was going to plan. They would be lucky if they got back to England by the spring thaw.

And it was almost Christmas, she admits very quietly to herself, as the distant rumble of mortar fire starts up again, and Steve was back in London. That may have been the worst bit of all.

Hearing Dugan’s voice along with Monty and Bucky’s coming nearer the tent, she squares her shoulders and reaches into her knapsack for her field notebook. As she pulls it out a piece of paper flutters out onto the tabletop. She’s still staring at the finely detailed drawing of the team sitting around a campfire, her own face the centerpoint of the picture, each of them seeming to glow in the light, when the boys tromp back into the tent. Bucky catches her eye with a lopsided smile as he nods knowingly toward the paper in her hands and she feels her cheeks color.

She looks back at the drawing before tucking it away and feels a little warmer then, smiling at the memory of hiding a small surprise for Steve in his compass before they left for France.

–

In the end, they choose the Presbyterians. The huge wreaths on the stately red front doors and the Sunday School kids who made Peggy laugh long and loudly when they went to choose the scraggly Christmas tree from the fundraising sale that now stands, tottering, in their living room seals the deal.

It’s cold and it snowed a week ago. The ancient radiators in their apartment knock and hiss and Peggy grumbles that she has dried out. Steve makes a note to add hand cream to her stocking.

On the night they have to call four diners before they find one that’s still open and have breakfast and strong coffee before they climb back into the car and drive to the church with red doors, cheery wreaths, and kind young people.

They had agreed one night laying on the couch wrapped around each other that this, this second chance, was more than they could have ever asked for but that there were moments when it was too much, too overwhelming. It would happen suddenly, to one or the other, and at the end of November, Steve had found Peggy standing in the Christmas section, nothing in her basket but with a wide-eyed, blank stare that he recognized. He steered her back home and made tea and it was then they agreed they would keep it simple, their first Christmas together again.

So they go to the Presbyterians and it is just enough the same and just enough different to match this new future that they are in together. The candles get passed around for the last hymn that gets quieter as each verse goes by and when Peggy stops singing, he loops his arm around her and they let the music be around them.

It is snowing again when the congregation spills out onto the sidewalk and they walk back to the car in silence, hand-in-hand, listening to the calls of “Merry Christmas” ringing through the night.


End file.
